


A Winter's Tale

by DrScout



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 15:21:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3214013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrScout/pseuds/DrScout
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the holiday season, life is back to normal. It’s winter, it’s cold, it’s time to enjoy the fresh air and a bit of solitude.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Winter's Tale

**Author's Note:**

> Another entry for the tf2promptfest's Secret Santa 2014. The request: "Scout’s mom taking some time to relax."

**A Winter's Tale**

 

 

“Thank you, and a happy New Year, Misses.., uh...”

“Miss,” corrected the dark eyed woman with a gentle smile the young cashier. She hadn't seen him working in Lou's store before, a young man with restless brown eyes and twitchy and most apologetically grinning lips.

 

_They are such adorable babies when they start their first job._ _Don't I remember the day my lil' Ben_ _couldn't hardly drink his juice with his shaky hands! And half a year later, how the twins sleepwalked through the morning, not saying a word! And_ _then there was sweet Enrico..._

The world had lost her to the memories of her boys. She forgot to introduce herself to the new face, as well as the kind word of encouragement she had intended to tell him. In a daze, she picked up the large, brown paper bag.

 

“Miss! You forgot your change!” the thin, aggravated voice called after her, but never reached her. She left the youth to his dilemma of wanting to rush after her and the strict order to never leave the counter alone, not even for a second.

 

 _And finally, my baby, all grown up now... Ah, wasn't I worried when he turned 20 and never had worked longer than a day!_ Reminiscing about eight boys becoming young men was something that couldn't be done in a quick moment. As she delighted in every memory of her life as a mother, be it ever so small, the best of half an hour had passed when she finally found her way back to the world happening around her.

She snapped out of the haze of a past when an elderly woman called her name, “Good morning, Isabella!” Old Nana Silvia, my, how long hadn't they seen each other! But what was the retired kindergarten teacher doing in this part of the district? She wasn't alone with that question.

 

“My, little Isa, I haven't seen you in months! What are you doing around here? A stroll? How are your boys?”

 

“No, yes. They're fine, thank you!” She looked around, breaking into a bright laugh. She had been so lost in her thoughts that he hadn't paid attention at all to her steps, which had taken the chance and led her into the opposite direction of her home. While carrying her groceries. Her arms had become weary and began to hurt.

 _Serves you right, Missy, for not watching your step,_ she scolded herself. _Good that the boys didn't see that, they'd never let me live this down!_

 

“How are you doing, Nana? Doesn't the cold bother you?” With gentle concern she watched the wrinkled, merry face, as dark as ever.

 

“Humbug! Us old folks are a lot sturdier than you think, my girl! Better watch yourself! My, have I never taught you how to dress properly when you were in my care?” The old woman reached for Isabella's collar and pulled it up. Then she took her own blue scarf and wrapped it around the younger woman's throat, tugging the loose ends into the long coat. “There, all better. Don't you lose it!”

“Nana, really!” Her own merry laughter deepened the fine lines around her eyes for a moment. “I can look after myself now. Why, I even brought up my own babies. I do think you taught me well!”

“Of course I did, but that doesn't mean there's nothing left to teach! You can keep it, I'll knit another this evening. Say, how old is the youngest? They are all out of the house now, yes?”

 

She nodded with a sigh, “Yes. Keith, the youngest, got a job in another town three years ago, and the others – scattered all over the states! Ben got a daughter last fall, and lil' Mickey will be a father in about half a year.”

“A proud mother and grandmother, I see. Guess my work is done.” Silvia gave her a wink, but then she became serious. “Dear, if you ever feel lonely and fear to bother them, come and see me. Or one of my girls. Nothing is worse than loneliness when you fear that you've done all that could be done for them.”

“I will, yes, I think I really will. Thank you.” She hurried to swallow the lump that formed in her throat. “But please don't worry. We had a wonderful Christmas, and the house was so filled with laughter and big and tiny feet – I think I'll need a few more days before getting tired of the silence!” Both women laughed, and when kind, loving Silvia spread her arms, no bag of grocery would come between her and her hearty hugs without being crushed.

 

“Must have been wonderful to have them all together again, and more than them!”

Isabella nodded, and asked how Silvia's family was doing. They exchanged a few more pleasantries, until the old lady had to bid goodbye. One of her daughters was waiting, and she was already late.

Isabella watched the little old woman scurrying away. She had grown fragile over the many years, but her feet were as quick as they used to be, as she firmly made her way over the slippery asphalt.

 

It was snowing again, and white flakes settled on Isabella's dark hair. Silvia had been right, she had to admit, she had been careless to leave the house without a scarf and hat in this weather. However, she defended herself, she had never planned to be outside for long. It was a crisp winter day, it had been snowing over the last days, and the roads were glazed with ice.

 

The world was beautiful with its frosted splendor, but also cold and dangerous, and all she had wanted to do was picking up some necessities from the store, until her nostalgic mind had distracted her.

Why she hadn't taken a walk down this street for so long she didn't know. If she continued her way down the road she would reach the small park where she had spent so many happy days as a child, together with Silvia's daughters and the other children she had taken care of until the busy, hard working parents came in the afternoon to pick them up.

 

She reached the black iron gate after a few minutes.

 

It felt like yesterday and yet an eternity away when she had been here with his youngest boy. She had brought all her boys here to play, to run and to yell, fight and scream until they rolled up on the grass, tired but satisfied with life. Then they grew up, one after another. Finally, Keith had also decided he was too old to be a child. That had been the end of those wonderful days.

Keith... the youngest, her baby. Isabella considered herself a good, responsible mother, and with all boys working, most of them married or in a relationship, she knew she hadn't done too bad raising her lively bunch. But if she ever made any mistakes... But he had been so small, so delicate and sickly, and she had been aware he was probably her last... Yes, she was guilty of spoiling him, of taking his side when he had been in a fight with his older brothers, even when she knew he had it coming for pushing their limits.

He had grown into a mouthy, lazy teenager, and she had her part in this. However, never she would not have loved him the way he was, for being her baby, the youngest and the last. And in the end, all turned out well, didn't it? His job was dangerous, and the less she knew about it the better you could sleep at night, and the easier she could ban her worries from her voice when he called.

Well, at least he was making good money, more than any of his brothers. Although this didn't change her wish of him having a safer job, and one more closer to her, it was a little comfort.

 

She missed him. She hadn't told Silvia before, that although her house had been full with life over the Holidays one spot had remained empty. Keith hadn't been there; his employer didn't gave him at least one day off.

 

A noise of boots crushing snow under their soles caught her attention. A small boy dragging a sledge behind him walked towards her, his small steps firm and forceful as though he was wading through knee-high snow. His fire truck-red boots were still new and shiny beneath the smudges. A knitted hat was pulled down to his blue eyes, a scarf tightly wrapped around his head and throat, only leaving his glowing cheeks and a few strands of wheat-blond hair visible. The son of one of her neighbors, if she wasn't mistaken.

 

_Like him, when he was his age..._

 

“Hello cutie! Aren't you Lydia's boy?” she called, and the child stopped, muffling something against the scarf what she took as a 'yes'.

“Would you do me a favor, sweetie?” She smiled as she knelt down in front of him, patting him on his hat. “Would you please take this home for me, and put it on the porch at the back?”

He hesitated, doubtfully looking at the bag she was still holding. She grinned; after raising eight years she knew this look only too well.

“Of course I would pay you for your hard work!” She stifled a laugh when his eyes suddenly sparkled as he eagerly nodded. “Here.” She put her back into his sledge. She pulled her purse out of her pocket, opened it under his watchful stare, and took out a few notes. With more than one son – one of them earning a little fortune every year – she could allow herself to be generous.

“Thanks, Auntie!” He jumped up and down on the spot; his scarf slid down and revealed a wide, cheeky grin. She stuffed the money into one of his pockets so he didn't have to take off his gloves, and off he dashed.

She laughed as she looked after him. If he kept his eagerness and good will up like that, at least half of her groceries would be scattered over the streets before he reached her home.

 _Well, I won't starve._ She opened the gate and walked into the park.

 

Winter always changed the world of trees and flowerbeds into a magical land of ice and snow.

 

She walked down the path, her hands deeply buried inside the pockets of her coat; after more than an hour outside the cold had found its way through the thick leather, turning her fingers stiff and numb. The thick clouds had moved on, leaving behind a clear sky with a bright, but weak sun that lacked the power of warmth.

The birches had lost their green leaves, so had the oaks, and the large chestnut tree that had already been a hundred years old when she had climbed it. Frost had glazed even the thinnest branch and twig, giving the illusion of trees being sculptured from solid eyes.

The flowers were sleeping beneath a cover of snow. The meadows hadn't been put to rest – tiny feet had trodden down the snow, footprints of children mixing with those of dogs.

It was calm and peaceful here around noon, with the children who weren't in school hurrying back to their mothers and nanas for a hasty wolfed down lunch and hot chocolate.

A crooked fence guarded the small lake from curious feet.

 

A shiver ran down her spine. When she had been little, she and her friends had often come here in winter, and skated on the frozen lake. Years later, before she had her first boy, a child had broken through the ice, a little girl, and found a cold, merciless death on the bottom of the lake.

Since then, parents forbade their children to get to close to the lake, and every year, volunteers put up this fence.

Not that it had stopped her boys from climbing over it, and no punishment she could hand out would have prevented the next in line from trying.

 

She brushed the snow from one of the benches and sat down. She rubbed her hands and shuddered from the cold, but what she saw was worth a bit of trouble.

The sun was standing high on a clear blue sky. Bright light fell on the lake, turning its frozen surface into a pond of warm gold. Crystallized branches swayed in the soft wind, glittering like the diamonds on display behind the safety glass of the jewellery store she sometimes walked by.

No, more beautiful as human hands had tempered with them, and only the touch the sun gave them their cold and clear sparkle.

 

Something rustled to her right – birds! Five fat sparrows were fighting over one of plenty red berries. A couple of blackbirds, round with their fluffed feathers, watched the tiny, bratty birds with mild curiosity.

 

_I'm sorry, little ones. I sent all bread I bought home. Oh, I wish I had thought of bringing some along!_

She made a promise to herself to come back in a few days with a few slices of old bread in her pockets. She didn't believe herself; in the end she would be too busy with nothing, with cleaning the house all over again, or dwelling in her living room, in her favorite chair with a hot cup of tea, feeling too lonely for the company of a chatty neighbor.

Maybe she should invite Lydia's small boy over. There were still many cookies from Christmas left, well, she didn't see a reason to bake some fresh ones with the lively child!

 

“My, who are you, little baby?” she cooed when something landed right in front of her feet. A little red robin, its chest glowing brightly, hopped up and down in the snow. It tilted its head when it heard her gentle voice and blinked with its dark eyes.

“Aren't you pretty! And so tame!” She laughed when it suddenly stretched its wings and fluttered on the bench, sitting down right next to her.

“I'm sorry, I'm still out of bread.” Slowly she removed one of her gloves, careful to avoid any abrupt motion that might scare the little bird away. The moment she had revealed her slender, the robin had flown up and sat down on her hand.

She smiled, hardly daring to breath as the bird began to scratch himself under his wing with its pointy beak.

She sighed, lifting her head and smiling at the clear sky, “It's all so beautiful. Quiet and peaceful! Breathtaking!” Magnificent as it was, the sight didn't take her breath; but she fell silent, the beauty of reality blurred by the memories of a dark haired little girl that used to play in the snow, laughing and shrieking with her friends. A later imagine of herself laughed with seven shrieking boys, a tiny, tiny baby sleeping in her arms, hardly visible behind the bundle of clothes shielding it from the cold.

 

“YO! Ma!”

She jumped up from the bench and twirled around.

 

“There was a brat rollin' round in our garden, told me you're here!” A young man, about a head taller than her, waved at her as he came closer. A sporty cap shielded his face from the cold and the sun; a blue scarf was pulled down, revealing glowing red cheeks and a wide grin.

The little robin which had fled from her hand over to him, and settled down on his shoulder.

 

“Ya already met my buddy!” A gloved finger pointed at the bird. “He's not mine, but his fatass of an owner went to Russia without him, too cold there or something. Well, he likes me better anyway!”

“Baby! Am I dreaming!” She laughed out loudly. The years and coldness fell from her; she hurried down the path, and flew around his throat, giving her youngest a tight hug.

“Nah! Got a few days off finally, thought I might as well gonna see ya!”

The bird chirped in protest when was once more disturbed from his task of cleaning his fingers, as the youth grabbed his mother by her waist and whirled her around, both their laughter echoing through the park.

“Ma, are you okay? Ya ain't cryin', are ya?”

“Nonsense!” She wiped her face with the back of her hand once he let her down. He opened his mouth, but she gave his chest a playful slap. “And now come! Let's go home and bake some cookies!”  


End file.
